


Reading Lessons

by apostapals (apostapal)



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Gender-Neutral Hawke, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 06:59:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7350637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apostapal/pseuds/apostapals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke’s personal taste in literature isn’t something Fenris expects but, well, it could also be worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reading Lessons

At first, reading aloud is merely how Fenris learns and hones the skill. Hawke, ever the patient teacher, seems content to listen as his slow fumbling turns into a proper recital. Many a night is spent in Hawke’s bed, a book propped in Fenris’ lap, going through the myriad of history and sciences books the elf personally selects.

Eventually, once Fenris barely falters over a word while going through one of Genitivi’s thick tirades, Hawke suggests something ‘more fun’.

“Personally,” they say, holding the worn leather-bound book out to Fenris, “I hardly ever read anything that’s not fictional.”

“You read magical studies often.” Fenris counters, even as he accepts the book.

Hawke gives an exaggerated shrug and flops uselessly onto their bed. “That’s more skimming than committing to the research, my dear.” they reply.

“Typical mage.”

Hawke lets out a muffled laugh into their pillow and Fenris smiles to himself as he climbs into bed next to them, flipping the book open lazily. Instantly, he begins to wonder what Hawke’s literature tastes actually entail.

“ _Love in the Barracks_ —Hawke?”

“Everyone has their weaknesses.” Hawke replies lazily, rolling over to shoot the elf their best pout, “Mine just so happens to be trashy romance novels.”

“How trashy is this, exactly?”

Fenris flips a few pages in, scanning the text lazily, and Hawke goes oddly silent. When he returns his gaze to them he finds them briefly guilty before the expression smooths over.

“Well?”

“It’s nothing you haven’t heard before.”

He finally relents and they make it through the first chapter before his eyes are too heavy to continue. Fenris finds the concept—two guardsmen trapped apart by duty and intrigue—largely absurd but the book is weathered enough that he can tell Hawke seems to have been through it a few times so he vouches to keep going the next night.

It is during their next reading session he finds himself regretting this choice.

“ _Phillip’s muscular back strains with the effort and my manh_ —hhhh—” Fenris fumbles the word in shock rather than misunderstanding and stares at the sentence a moment before actually finishing it, “ _my manhood throbs at me._ ”

Hawke rolls to press their face against his thigh and actually _giggles_. Fenris looks down at them critically, raising the book from his lap to better see them, and sighs through his nose.

“You’re having me read smut?”

Hawke muffles another peel of laughter into his bare thigh and nods. Fenris gazes back at the page and finds more heated text, describing the passionate fantasies of their narrator about his fellow guardsman. He wonders why Hawke would select such a novel.

“Got your bits tingly yet?”

The elf looks down and finds Hawke gazing up at him fondly, chin propped on his thigh. Fenris sighs and reaches down, shoving gently at their forehead.

“Hardly.”

“Damn.” they sigh and roll onto their back, gazing up at the canopy over their bed, “Keep going and it’ll do something for me at least.”

“You have to have read this thing at least a dozen times.” Fenris remarks, displaying the worn cover to Hawke.

“Yes, but not in your voice.”

Suddenly, things make a little more sense.

“You could simply ask me to recite filthy poetry if that was your aim.” Fenris says, “Not commit me to a book.”

“I like the book.”

Fenris rolls his eyes but relents, even going as far as finishing the chapter before setting the book aside for the evening. Hawke, enthralled in the story, barely realizes the change in situation until Fenris rolls over on top of them and sinks down on his elbows—lips hovering near theirs.

“So, did it do something for you after all?” Hawke asks, bumping their nose against his.

Fenris lets out a soft chuckle and shakes his head. Before a look of proper disappointment can solidify on Hawke’s face, however, he catches their mouth in a deep kiss.

“It did nothing.” he says, breaking the kiss to let Hawke breathe, “You, however, do many things.”

“Do tell.” Hawke says.

“I could simply show you.”

“Is both an option?”

Fenris chuckles softly and shifts to press his lips to their throat. Hawke sighs in pure bliss and their hands raise to press against his back, holding him closer. It feels safe, rather than confining like Fenris had feared it would the first night together, and he gladly collapses into an embrace.

“No.” he says, voice warm against their neck, “But only because you serve as such a terrible distraction.”

Their banter dissolves quickly after this, focuses placed elsewhere, and the book is left forgotten for the rest of the evening in lieu of _other_ shared interests.


End file.
